


The Game

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Ambiguous Relationships, Blow Job, Bottoming from the Top, Competition, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Canon, Shower Sex, Soccer, Sports, Stanford Era, Topping from the Bottom, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the victor go the spoils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/profile)[**innie_darling**](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/)'s prompt _Sam/OMC, competition_. Stanford era; time period otherwise unspecified, but assume Sam's sophomore year–ish, before he's with Jessica.

"You ready for us to kick your asses, Winchester?"

Daniels is cocky, golden, a senior and the captain of Berkeley varsity soccer, and Sam makes up his mind that Stanford's going to pound his team into the ground.

+||+||+

 

One hundred and five minutes later, Sam's sweaty, winded, bruised from multiple body checks, and Stanford has won six to two. They go through the standard lines afterwards—_good game, good game, good game_—and Daniels smirks at him when their hands brush, doubles back before they head to the lockers to say, low and completely self-assured, "Kick your roommate out, man. Spoils to the victor, right?"

 

+||+||+

 

They start in the shower—Sam's in a suite, thank God, so there are only his five suitemates to scandalize and not the entire floor of a dorm. But when Daniels slides to his knees, Sam forgets about all of that—forgets to be quiet, almost forgets his own name—as Daniels starts licking the head of his cock. His tongue is clever, his mouth as hot and wet as the water cascading around them, and Sam's back is arching, his hips thrusting, as he moans out loud. He can feel orgasm rushing up, electric shocks that start in his toes to the backs of his thighs to his belly to his cock—

And then Daniels pulls away, hand tight around the base of Sam's shaft, and says, "Not yet."

"You fucker," Sam gasps.

Daniels shakes his hair back and smirks up at him. He may be the one kneeling, but it's nothing more than positioning. "That's your job today. Don't you want to bend me over the bed, show me my place, pillage and plunder like you're supposed to?"

Sam yanks Daniels up, pushes him against the wall of the shower, and kisses him. They haven't seen each other since the last Berkeley/Stanford game, haven't kissed since then either, and they sink into each other, rubbing together, both of them hard and wet and almost desperate.

"Wanna spread your legs, fuck you till you scream my name," Sam says against Daniels's lips.

Daniels bites his shoulder, runs his tongue over the marks. "Then what are you waiting for?"


End file.
